Hope are there

There was her, her best friend, my best friend, and I. We drove in an open jeep down a white pebbled road that ran alongside the bluest ocean I have ever seen, bluer than the lakes of Tibet, bluer than the waters off the coast of Australia. The ocean stretched out bearing small isles in the distance, but there were no people, no signs of civilization to be seen for miles around. It was summer, but the sun and the warm breeze were pleasant, the kind of summer you find in movies and stories, and the salt spray from the ocean danced across our faces. Despite the time of the year, my friend and I were in tuxedos and they were garbed in traditional saris. I don't know why we were there. I don't know where we were coming from. But I do know that we did not really know nor care where we were going.

Freedom. From thought, from society, from civilisation, from ourselves and everything we thought we wanted to be.



We always try to live up to our own expectations, not to speak of the expectations of others. Yet rarely do we wonder about living up to our own hopes.

Life is always more than one expects for and less than one hopes.